


Fubar

by Daydreamsofu (Supertights)



Category: Avengers: The Initiative, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Near Death Experience, Nightmares, POV Third Person, Survivor Guilt, Teen Angst, Therapy, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, au bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supertights/pseuds/Daydreamsofu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MVP might be alive but the ghost of a dead girl haunts him every night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fubar

**Author's Note:**

> Written for AU Bingo: Alternate History - Canon event changed.

_His fingers brushed the skin of her arm, snagging her t-shirt, pulling her down to stare into her dead eye in utter horror, seeing things he shouldn't see inside her head, the smell of ozone and burning meat catching in his nose, making him cough as the bile rose in his throat. He shook his head, backing away on his hands and knees as someone vomited behind him_ and it began to fade as he opened his eyes, hearing the other recruits moving around in their pre-dawn shuffle towards the showers.

　

"I had the dream again..." He plucked a blade of grass, playing with it absently to avoid Justice's gaze. "I was back in the training room." He snorted. Training room, like anyone trained in there these days by choice. The Brass might've said it was classified but somehow, all the recruits on base knew about the friendly fire death now. "Abby was within my reach, my fingertips literally touched her arm but then... it was already to late." He squeezed his eyes shut to the visions of her body, her face half gone.

Justice put a hand on his shoulder but didn't say anything.

"I have variations on it, each time there's a different outcome. She's dead or I'm dead or Trauma's dead, or Armory's dead, then everyone's dead and that thing on her arm is flailing on the ground like it's searching for someone to attach itself." He held his breath for a second and it seemed to help. "When are the dreams going to stop?" he said, letting the breath go in a gust.

"I don't know, MVP. When you're ready to move past what happened? It might help if we could all talk about it but that's been vetoed for now." Of course, anyone might be listening and he figured that Gyrich was keeping a pretty tight leash on all of them these days. He didn't like that they'd hushed it up, neither did Justice from the look on his face. "It doesn't mean you have to accept it instantly like they expect you to, but just make peace with yourself if you can."

He looked up, glancing at the peer counsellor. "Is it an hour yet?"

"I wasn't keeping watch. Besides, it keeps you out of Gauntlet's hands for a while."

Michael Van Patrick sighed, a long unhappy sound. "My first time trying to save someone, and she's dead. Maybe I'm not cut out for this hero stuff."

"It was a harsh lesson learnt early in your career. It'll keep you on your toes, make you move that bit faster, work harder for it." Justice leaned back on his elbows, head back, half asleep in the sun. "None of us had time to know Cloud Nine well but she was a reluctant hero, anyone could see that. War Machine said she had potential but the thing about this superhero gig is, you have to want it. More than anything. To help all kinds of people in all types of situations, to save lives, to prevent crime and property damage. Risk life and limb for strangers as well as loved ones. But the thing they don't tell you is that you won't always save everyone, prevent every crime, and the loss can be... overwhelming at times."

Michael contemplated that. "Is it worth it though?"

Justice's smile was tinged with sadness. "I'm not qualified to answer that question. Ask someone who wasn't a New Warrior. But not Gauntlet. He isn't qualified either."

They watched the angry DS run a training session down field from them for a few minutes. "She was sweet. Abby was, I liked her."

"So did I."

Smiling, Michael murmured, "I only met her half an hour before she died, she stepped through the door between the girls shower and the boys. I'm glad I had a towel on."

Chuckling, Justice said, "I can believe it, I think I mentioned to maintenance that something like that was going to happen." He fell quiet for a few minutes then added, "She reminded me of another reluctant hero, someone who did amazing things despite not feeling this was her calling." Justice sat up and brushed imaginary dust from his uniform. "It's a tragedy, what happened to Cloud Nine, that's absolutely true, but it doesn't have to be _your_ tragedy, Michael. The dreams might stop when you come to terms with the other absolute - it wasn't your fault that she died."

He grimaced, thinking about the training session the day before. "Doesn't help that Trauma keeps turning into her." Another Gauntlet inspired moment of personal hell ending when Trauma had changed into an undead version of Cloud Nine, blaming MVP's ongoing guilty conscience for it.

He'd struggled with Trauma's involvement in Abby's death, struggled with how easily the other boy seemed to have moved on leading to tension between them. Armory was washed out, Hardball and Komodo were finding other ways to deal with it, that left Trauma alone to bear the brunt of his frustration and guilt.

"I saw, it's being dealt with." Justice's voice had gone hard.

Michael had seen him pull Trauma away from Yellowjacket, then defend the shape changer to Gauntlet. He wondered if it had more to do with their obvious animosity towards each other, that Trauma was a means to an end, another way for Justice to stick it to Gauntlet when the other man had made it his mission to rip down what was left of the former New Warriors reputation any way he could.

Maybe he just didn't understand why Justice had defended Trauma.

"I'm here for every one of the recruits, Michael."

His heart missed a beat as he tried to remember if Justice was a mind reader and he looked at him nervously.

"It doesn't take a world class psychic to work out you have a problem with Trauma," murmured Justice. "But he has just as much right to counselling as anyone else there that day

"Oh." Interesting, it was as much as an admission that Terry was not coping as well as he made out. He watched the recruits doing drills for a few more minutes then stood up. "I want it."

Justice turned to look up at him, curious. "What?"

"This." His gesture encompassed the entire base, the world at large. "I only came here because you convinced me that I could do it, help people, save lives, all that other stuff. That I had it in me to be a hero." He swallowed, kicked at the dirt, dislodging a lump of sod. 'I couldn't save _her_ though, when it counted,' he thought.

There was a sigh next to him and Justice stood up. "I can't convince you in one session, Michael, but everything from moment she stepped into that training room was..." he seemed be searching for the right word.

"FUBAR?" suggested Michael, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, FUBAR," replied Justice, smiling. "In the meantime, homework. Keep a dream journal. We'll talk about it next session."

"Every dream?" he asked, blushing.

Justice walked away laughing. "Only the bad ones."


End file.
